Earth-0 - Batman Part 1: The Dark Knight
by BatJamags
Summary: One year into his mission, Batman is finally gaining traction against the mobs, but when he begins to encounter a new type of villain, he needs help to deal with the rising threats. Rated T for minor language and non-graphic violence. ABANDONED.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: I promise I won't inundate you with pointless information, but I just figured I'd drop some continuity stuff here.**

 **This does not take place in any pre-established DC continuity. This story and any sequels I write will be have some similarities to the main canon, but I'll take liberties where I feel it's necessary for the story I'm trying to tell.**

 **I'll be drawing liberally from both the Post-Crisis comic continuity and various adaptations (especially the DCAU).**

 **I know it's** ** _highly_** **improbable that I'll get very far with this, but ideally this will be the first in a long series of fics. There will be "Phases" which advance the status quo (this is Phase One, later phases will start adding non-Batman fics), and standalone stories which will be more episodic until I put out the next phase. I have outlines for seven phases, introducing Justice League stories in Phase Two, and Teen Titans stories in Phase Three.**

 **For now, this particular story takes place about a year into Batman's career.**

Monday, December 26, 2016 – 10:15 PM – The Englehart Apartment Building, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

It was a chilly December night in Gotham City when the Batman changed everything a second time. Change was something Gotham wasn't used to. In fact, the place had barely changed since the forties. For one thing, it was still run by old-fashioned mobsters, complete with pinstripe suits, fedoras, and over-the-top accents. Even the slang had barely changed. That was before the Batman.

The first time, he'd changed everything just by existing. The mobs suddenly had an external force to worry about. The police weren't all corrupt, maybe not even half of them, but the corrupt ones made up the half that was in charge.

While they were inclined to look the other way when it came to most of the mobs' activities, they were specifically in the pocket of city councilman Rupert Thorne. Thorne, in turn, had been in the pocket of the Bertinelli mob until he had their leading family killed. Police Commissioner Loeb was Thorne's main stooge in the GCPD, while Sal Maroni, a former lieutenant of the Bertinellis, managed his criminal enterprises.

And it was under Sal Maroni's watch that the Batman made his big move. Every month, Maroni held a meeting in a different apartment, where he would explain to his enforcers the details of who was up to date on their payments, who wasn't, and who needed to disappear. This was one such meeting.

The room had been cleared of all furniture, except for a large oak table placed in the middle of the tiled floor, covered with the numerous papers and folders that contained the orders for Maroni's enforcers.

Maroni sat with his left side to the door, so that he could watch it, but wasn't blocked from it. His four associates were gathered around the table, three armed guards stood watch, and two more were outside the door. They had just come to the primary subject of the meeting.

"So, Freddy," said Maroni, "How's our nosy friend?"

Maroni referred to Police Captain James Gordon, who had recently launched an investigation into Thorne's operations.

"Sal, the guy just won't take the money," Freddy said, "I dunno what to do with him!"

Maroni leaned back in his chair and grimaced.

"That's a real shame, Freddy," he said, "I guess he'll just have to have an accident."

Maroni reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Want a smoke?" he asked.

Freddy started to refuse, but discovered that he had little choice in the matter when a small round object crashed through the window, landing on the table. All of the mobsters jumped up from their chairs at the sight, and the little sphere began to emit a cloud of smoke. Soon, the dark, choking gas filled the room, and one of the guards stumbled to the broken window for a breath of fresh air.

Instead, he was confronted by a flying demon. A vast, shadowed creature with billowing leathery wings and elongated ears. That, or an eccentric billionaire in a bat costume. The two had already proven easy to confuse.

Either way, the other mobsters' only indication of Batman's arrival, obscured as it was by the thick smoke, was the sound of his landing on top of the unfortunate guard.

Maroni jumped up and scrambled for the door as Batman rushed another guard. He seized the man's gun and struck his head with the butt before dropping both. Freddy, by this point, had realized what was happening and pulled a gun on Batman. It didn't do him much good as he could not, in fact, see Batman until he'd been punched in the face.

Two more of the enforcers had followed Maroni out the door as Batman grabbed the last and slammed his head into the table. He ran to follow Maroni, but the third guard attempted to tackle him.

Batman backhanded the guard into Freddy's chair and moved to the door. He would have had no way of knowing that there were two more guards waiting outside had he not scouted out the meeting before attacking.

As it stood, he even knew which way the door swung: outward and right into one guard's face. Batman then grabbed the other guard's gun, and shoved the man to the ground. The first guard then came around the door, and Batman knocked him to the floor as well and proceeded to chase Maroni and the two enforcers down the stairs.

One enforcer turned around at the bottom of the stairs, and pulled a handgun. Batman leapt off the top and glided straight into the enforcer's chest. He guessed the second man would also try to stop him. So, he had a batarang prepared.

Batman threw it at the last enforcer, throwing off his aim. Batman ran and grappled with the man. Then, he swept the enforcer's legs from under him, and he was thrown down to the ground.

Batman ran out the door after Maroni, but Maroni's car was driving off. He reached down to his utility belt to call the Batmobile, but then he heard the sirens echoing through the dark streets of Gotham. If the police got to the evidence first, there was a good chance it would be "lost."

Batman couldn't risk that. He was after something in particular. He went back inside the building, through the lobby and up the stairs, ignoring the man cowering behind the front desk. When he reached the top floor, one of the guards was starting to get up. He kicked the man in the back and went into the meeting room.

He picked up a letter off of the table.

"Maroni-

I don't know what the hell your man is doing, but he's not helping me. Gordon is still on my ass. If you don't deal with this soon, he's going to dig something up, and if I know him, he'll take it to the feds. I don't care what you have to do, just get him the hell off my back!

-Loeb

P.S. Raided the Iceberg Lounge again. I'll give Cobblepot one thing: the man can make himself look cleaner than Mr. Thorne's new car. We've still got nothing, and the Penguin's pissed."

This was everything Batman needed. He would drop it off with the FBI and leave a copy for the Gotham Gazette as insurance.

He heard a car pull up outside. He looked out the window, and saw that it was a police cruiser. This called for a speedy exit. He drew his grapnel gun, aimed it at the building across the street, and fired it. It flew through the previously-broken window and hooked onto a ledge near the top of the other building, pulling Batman across.

Friday, December 30, 2016 – 6:04 PM – GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Commissioner James Gordon tapped his fingers on his desk. He, and the two other men in his new office, were all thinking of the same question. They were just waiting for someone to ask it. District Attorney Harvey Dent took the initiative.

"So, what are we going to do about the Batman?" he asked.

"I don't see how we have to do anything," replied Chief Clancy O'Hara.

Gordon and O'Hara had been moved up as the GCPD's new leadership after Loeb and his inner circle had been exposed as corrupt.

"How do you figure?" asked Gordon.

"Well," O'Hara replied, "He brought in Loeb when we couldn't, and he leaves the crooks he catches for us. He's an asset."

Dent flipped his coin, a two-headed silver dollar that he would fiddle with when preoccupied with other matters, and frowned.

"Are you suggesting we look the other way? The man's a vigilante. When people try to take justice into their own hands, it never ends well."

"You do have a point," Gordon said to Dent, "but we have to find him to arrest him. If he were that easy to find, the mobs would've done it by now."

"Then what do you suggest?" Dent asked.

"We'll need to watch him. If we find out who he is, we'll bring him in. If he crosses a line, we'll try to stop him."

Dent ran his coin through his fingers as the Commissioner spoke. He then looked up.

"Don't you think he already crossed the line when he broke the law?"

"That may be," said Gordon, "but we have bigger things to worry about than someone who's trying to help us."

Dent nodded slowly, and spoke.

"Alright. But I hope you know what you're doing."

Gordon hoped so too.


	2. Chapter 1

Saturday, December 31, 2016 – 11:49 PM – The Batcave, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

In some ways, Bruce Wayne was one of the most respected men in Gotham. Businessman, philanthropist, even inventor, as he had designed several of Wayne Enterprises' products personally. The fact that these were mostly stripped-down versions of Batman's equipment was disguised by the fact that no one else had ever examined Batman's gear.

However, Wayne was also one of the least respected men in Gotham. Aloof, irresponsible, constantly late for engagements. Especially Gotham's upper classes tended to look down on Wayne as an eccentric and somewhat disturbed playboy, sealed away in a mansion, who owned a successful company built from his parents' money and other people's talent.

In truth, Wayne didn't think of himself as either of these things. He was one thing, and anything else was secondary.

He was Batman.

And at the moment, Batman was absorbed in his work. He was working on the Batcomputer, headphones on, while the steak next to him grew cold. After he exposed Commissioner Loeb, he'd been monitoring police communications. While removing Loeb was a worthwhile end in itself, it had been part of a larger plan.

Loeb's control over the police gave Rupert Thorne one of his strongest weapons. With Loeb out of the way, Thorne was an easy target. The Falcones would probably be worried that the same thing would happen to them, and thus would try to circle the wagons, as it were. That made them less of a problem.

Stromwell and Cobblepot, however, were more aggressive and had less to lose. They would smell blood in the water. Batman's train of thought was interrupted by a police dispatch.

"We've got a silent alarm triggered at ACE Chemicals on Fourth and Finger, no word on the suspects."

Saturday, December 31, 2016 – 11:41 PM – ACE Chemicals, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

When Rupert Thorne's power was disrupted by Loeb's arrest, the other mobs were quick to respond. One of these was that of Arnold Stromwell. Stromwell's organization was the oldest in Gotham, and Stromwell himself was the second-oldest mob leader. His gang had begun in the 1920s, shortly before the Bertinellis and the Falcones got their start, and had absorbed several other, smaller gangs since then.

When Thorne first came to power in the 1990s, he'd managed to anger Stromwell. The gang wars that ensued had died down in recent years, but the enmity between Stromwell and Thorne was infamous.

The Alexander Carlos Edwards Chemical Company was one of Thorne's biggest assets, and Stromwell wanted it ruined. Now that he had his opportunity, he dispatched some of his most trusted men to deal with it. They were to hit ACE Chemicals' Mixing Plant.

The Red Hood, a professional hitman and Stromwell's most trusted lieutenant, was to lead the operation. Tony Zucco was Stromwell's nephew, whom Stromwell hoped would learn some discipline from the experience. Eel O'Brian was one of the best safecrackers in the city. They were to have two other thugs to back them up, and an inside man, the plant's night watchman, to let them in.

It was about a quarter to midnight when they drove up to the plant. Red Hood pounded on the door. They were already behind schedule, and he wasn't going to let the watchman hold him up. The metal door slid open with a creak to reveal a man with ACE coveralls and a flashlight.

"A-are you R-red-" the man stammered.

"What do you think?" snapped Hood, "You Jim Grant?"

"Yeah, yeah I am."

Zucco leaned against the wall and took out a cigarette. Hood turned to speak to him, but O'Brian beat him to the punch.

"Ain't sure you want to smoke in a building full of flammable chemicals, man."

Zucco's eyes widened and he dropped his lighter.

"If you're done, we've got some chumps to rob," Hood said.

The six filed into the building. Even through his helmet, Hood could smell the chemicals. The sheer variety made for an odd smell, but it reminded Hood of gasoline. The building's interior was almost entirely metallic. The clanking sounds of the group's steps put Hood on edge. He knew the building was supposed to be empty, but he didn't trust it.

They followed Grant down a hallway, up a set of stairs, and into an office. It had been dark outside, but inside the building was almost pitch black. There were no lights on, and the office was not near any windows. The room was fairly plain. There was a desk near one wall, a wastebasket, some shelves with office supplies piled on them, and a few paintings on the walls.

O'Brian moved to hit the light switch, but Hood blocked him.

"If we have any uninvited guests to the party, we can't let 'em know we're in here."

"How am I supposed to see what I'm doing?" asked O'Brian.

Grant reached into his pocket, pulled out a flashlight, and handed it to O'Brian.

"Right, that works."

O'Brian turned to Grant

"Where's the safe?" he asked.

"Behind Gotham over there," Grant replied, gesturing to a painting of the Gotham skyline.

"Behind a painting?" said O'Brian, pulling down the picture, "People got no creativity these days."

He set to work on the safe, and Zucco turned to Hood.

"I don't like this. It's all too easy," Zucco said.

 _There's hope for this guy yet_ , mused Hood.

"Just be on your guard and it'll be fine," Hood said.

Just then O'Brian spoke up.

"I got it!"

He pulled open the safe. Zucco moved outside to double-check the window in the hall.

"Never knew why the old man kept his dough in cash," said Grant while O'Brian scooped the money into a shoulder bag.

"Probably too paranoid to leave it in a bank," Hood said, "I've robbed a couple like that. Tends to change their tune real quick."

"Ain't it the Roman who owns the banks? Wouldn't it be better not to change their tune?" asked Grant.

"Most of 'em," said Hood, "but it's not like the money's doin' us any good just sittin' around."

"Hey!" Zucco interrupted from outside, "Some kinda crazy car's pullin' up out there."

Hood ran to the window, pushing Zucco out of the way. It was harder to see through the frosted glass, but the car's silhouette was unmistakable.

"Aw, hell, it's the Bat!" Hood exclaimed.

O'Brian quickly scooped the rest of the money into the bag. Grant ran up to Hood while the two henchmen reached for their guns.

"There's a back way. If we go fast, we can get out before the Bat finds us," Grant said.

"Take us to it," Hood ordered.

They fled back down the hallway, making a right just before reaching the stairs they'd come up. Grant pulled open a door, and the other five darted through before he followed. Hood ran down the metal spiral staircase on the other side, stumbling a little as he checked behind him to make sure the others were with him.

They were now in a cavernous room, most of the floor lined with large vats of chemicals, and the six were standing on catwalks running above and between the vats. Some of the chemicals almost seemed to glow in the darkness, giving the area an eerie phosphorescence.

Straight ahead was another staircase leading downward with an exit sign hanging over the top of it.

"Emergency exit's right over there," whispered Grant.

Suddenly, the room was filled with light. Hood threw up a hand to block it out, stumbling for a moment.

"Come on, we've gotta go!" said Zucco.

"Wait, if the bat turned the lights on in here, he probably knows about that entrance too! We've gotta be sure he ain't waitin' for us out there," whispered Hood.

"Screw that!" yelled O'Brian, "I'm getting' out of here!"

O'Brian ran down the steps toward the exit.

"Not with our money you ain't!" said Zucco, pulling a gun and firing.

The shot missed O'Brian, but it hit the vat nearest the stairs and ricocheted into his arm. O'Brian stumbled, and tumbled to the bottom of the steps with a loud thud, where he was soaked by the red liquid now leaking from the vat.

Zucco rushed down the steps.

"Zucco, what the hell are you doing?" Hood shouted.

"Getting' the money!" Zucco replied.

"Screw the money!" said Hood.

"The Red Hood. I guessed Stromwell would send you," growled a third voice.

This last voice did not come from Hood, Zucco, Grant, O'Brian, or either hired thug. Hood turned around. One goon was hanging from the ceiling by his ankles. Another was unconscious, draped over a handrail. Grant was also unconscious, held by the collar by Batman.

"You should've left while you had the chance," Batman said, "but you preferred a confrontation to a trap."

"Oh, did I?" Hood asked, raising his eyebrow even though he knew the Bat couldn't see it.

Batman wasn't entirely wrong, either. Sure, a clean getaway would've been preferable, but Hood thought it would be interesting to test his skills against the Batman.

"You wanted a fight," Batman said, taking a small, sharp-looking object out from his belt, "You've got one."

Batman threw the object, and Hood sidestepped as it went spinning past him. Batman charged Hood. Hood reached into his jacket and withdrew a razor playing card, the Jack of Spades. Hood prepared to throw it, but Batman closed the distance and grabbed Hood's arm, pushing him backwards. Hood's helmet was dented against the railing and he dropped the card through one of the holes in the catwalk, but he was able to jump to his feet before Batman's next punch could make contact.

Hood rolled past Batman, taking a few more steps back and throwing the Ace of Diamonds at him. Batman was still off-balance from his missed punch, and the card made contact, leaving a deep cut in Batman's left arm. Batman grimaced, and turned to face Hood, who was already throwing another card, the Two of Clubs.

"That's enough," said Batman.

He reached up and snatched the card out of the air with his right hand. Tossing it over the side of the catwalk, Batman rushed forward. Before Hood could react, Batman had taken hold of him and slammed his head into the handrail again.

Hood's helmet worked something like a one-way mirror. On the outside it appeared to be plain red metal, but on the inside, he would have had a three-hundred-sixty-degree field of vision if he could turn his neck that far. Thus, the dents in his helmet reflected the light that was passing in differently, making it much harder to see.

At the moment, all that was really visible was the drainage pipe, running along the room's floor and connecting to a vat of chemicals. It looked just big enough to be a viable escape route.

Hood twisted free of Batman's grip, flipping over the handrails of the catwalk. Reacting surprisingly quickly, Batman drew a grapnel gun and fired, the hook taking hold of Hood's ankle.

Blood rushing to his head, Hood withdrew the Six of Hearts from his deck of cards and threw it at Batman. Batman leaned to the side, and the card zoomed harmlessly past his ear.

"Stop, Hood, those chemicals are toxic!" Batman urged.

Hood shook his leg vigorously, trying to get loose. Suddenly, his cards slipped and fell out of his jacket. He desperately grabbed for them, but only caught one. He curled up into a ball so that he could reach the cable. He wouldn't let Batman catch him. He had to do this.

Batman started to reel in the cable. Hood raised the card, and sliced at the cable with it it. It cut straight through. The last thing the Red Hood saw was Batman standing over him as he fell into the abyss, still holding onto the Joker.

 **Author's note: This is not important information, so feel free to skip it if you don't care. That's why I'm sticking it down here in the author's note rather than babbling about it in the main text. Anyway, I love superhero costumes, so I'm going to talk about how I'm imagining the costumed guys we've seen so far to look.**

 **Batman: Alright, so the best colors for urban stealth are dark blue and dark grey, so his main costume is going to be a rather dark grey, and his cape and cowl are navy blue. From here, I'll go top-down. He's got Batman: Arkham-style ears. They not only look more like actual bat ears than other designs, but they look like he could pack some gadgets and functions in there.**

 **Over his eyes, he's got white lenses, which are mostly there for protection right now, but will later be able to do detective mode and stuff. The face opening has the little cheek-points like he's got in The Batman and Young Justice. The cape goes down almost to the ground, but doesn't trail, and is black on the inside.**

 **The suit itself is padded, but he's not running around in stormtrooper armor. It's mostly leather and Kevlar. He does have some harder plates on his chest, hands, feet, and, let's be realistic here, his crotch. I'm going to use that as an excuse for his having the classic trunks, even though there's no real reason for that particular armor plate to be a different color from the rest of the costume.**

 **Anyway, his symbol is small, but has the yellow oval behind it. His belt is yellow, too. Why? Because it looks better. That's really my only explanation. The belt, I should add, has pouches (Rob Liefeld, eat your heart out) and not the cylindrical capsules, because seriously, what are you even going to fit into those? Lipstick?**

 **His boots, gauntlets, and trunk-armor-things are black as well, to match his symbol. He also looks a bit more like a bat that way, and the blue on the cape and cowl is just for stealth purposes.**

 **In other words, a blend of classic, modern, and practical looks.**

 **Red Hood I: The Red Hood's gear is a lot more like his comic look. The tuxedo's not a real one, it's a cheap costume that's easy to replace, but it is still a tuxedo. Underneath, he wears some bulletproof armor.**

 **He's got a short (goes about to his knees), dark red cape, and the "hood" is the same dome-shaped helmet he's got in the comics, which I explained in the chapter.**

 **Haven't brought up any other costumed characters yet, so this should be it for now.**


	3. Chapter 2

Sunday, January 1, 2017 – 10:14 PM – Thomas Wayne Memorial Park, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

The circus was in town. Haly's Circus was not the only circus Gotham had seen, nor the largest, nor the most successful. However, at least for a few months, it would be the most memorable. It began the night after the ACE break-in.

The star attraction of Haly's Circus was the Flying Graysons. They were a family of acrobats that had been part of the circus for almost thirteen years. John and Mary Grayson were the first ones to join, shortly before the birth of their son, Dick. Dick Grayson was, at the moment, age twelve.

He was exploring Thomas Wayne Memorial Park. The park was one of Bruce Wayne's many philanthropic contributions to the city. It was one of the cleanest places in Gotham, and it had a wide open field meant for temporary attractions like the circus. In terms of gangs, it was on the fringes of the Roman Empire's territory, and unless the Roman planned on extorting Bruce Wayne himself, they really didn't want anything to do with it.

The Roman Empire, led by Carmine "The Roman" Falcone, was a wealthy, widespread gang that primarily engaged in extortion and insurance scams. They targeted permanent residents, people they could get regular payment from. Something like Haly's Circus was exactly the sort of thing the Roman preferred to avoid. Once they left, they were out of the Roman's reach and could press charges without fear of reprisal.

As such, Thomas Wayne Memorial Park was supposed to be safe for the circus.

It was that night that Dick Grayson would find out that it wasn't. Practice was over, and he'd wandered into the main, more forested area of the park. The rustling of the leaves in the breeze should've been peaceful, but it reminded Dick of whispering voices.

He kicked at the gravel path, shuffling his way toward the edge of the park. As he neared the street, two beams of light erupted from a nearby alley, the trees casting twisted shadows across their neighbors.

Dick stepped behind a tree to get out of the light as an old, beat-up blue SUV pulled up. Four men in dark suits stepped out. A young man with slicked-back hair gestured in the direction of the circus and started down the path. The other three went with him.

After he was sure they were out of earshot, Dick followed them. As he approached the cluster of brightly-colored tents and trailers, the normally comforting sights of the circus were betrayed by the sound of shouting.

He moved closer. The noise was coming from Mr. Haly's trailer. Dick got close enough to hear the words from outside the brightly-painted structure.

"You can't do this!" said Mr. Haly's voice.

"Look, C.C." said another voice, "Can I call you C.C.? It don't have to be like this."

"No, I can call the cops," Haly interjected.

"Hey, now. Let's not do anything we might regret," the voice said, "Somebody could get hurt."

"You wouldn't dare," said Haly.

"I wouldn't do a thing. I'm just sayin' that if you don't got nobody to protect you, somebody could have an accident, see?"

Dick could almost hear the sneer in the unknown man's voice.

"Get out of my trailer," Haly snarled.

"Alright, alright," the voice said, "No need to get nasty. I'm just offerin' is all."

"Out!" Haly shouted.

The slick-haired man and his three cronies filed out of the trailer and brushed past Dick.

"Outta my way, kid," he said, shoving Dick aside.

Dick watched as the group moved back down the path. For a moment, he thought of asking Mr. Haly what had happened, but it was pretty clear. Instead, he decided to follow the four. The path curved, so he could catch up to them by cutting through the trees.

He had to move quickly, but he was careful not to make noise. Making sure he wasn't stepping on any twigs slowed him down some, but he'd almost caught up to the four strangers when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Dick jumped and breathed in sharply. The lead stranger paused and looked around.

"You hear somethin'?"

A low, rumbling voice whispered into Dick's ear.

"Don't make a sound."

After a moment, the four strangers moved on. Dick turned around to see a tall, intimidating man in dark grey and black armor and a navy blue cape and cowl. Dick had heard a little about Batman, but had never expected to actually meet him.

"Do you know who that was?" asked Batman.

"N-no," Dick replied, "is he somebody important?"

"No. His name is Tony Zucco. He's an idiot, but he's a dangerous idiot. Following him was risky."

"I just overheard him-" Dick began.

"I know. So did I."

"Oh," Dick said, "Well, why are you here?"

"Zucco was involved in a break-in at ACE Chemicals last night. He escaped, and I followed him here," Batman explained.

"I thought they said this place would be safe," said Dick.

"It should be. Zucco's playing a dangerous game operating in the Roman's territory."

"The Roman?" Dick asked with a slight snort.

"Nevermind. Just take my advice, and stay _out_ of Zucco's way," Batman said.

Sunday, January 1, 2017 – 11:32 PM – GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Gotham City rarely had the courtesy to have nice weather. The springs were too rainy, the summers were too hot, the falls were too windy, and the winters were too cold. In January, on the rooftop of the GCPD Headquarters, around midnight, that last point was quite apparent.

Commissioner James Gordon didn't care. It was the closest he could get to fresh air without driving out of town, and there was usually no one else there. It gave him peace of mind.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Barbara had recently been pushing him to quit smoking. She was right, of course, but it helped Gordon think.

He was thinking about the ACE break-in. It didn't add up. The culprits had an inside man, some muscle, and a safecracker, but no ringleader. O'Brian was smarter than he looked, but he mostly worked for hire. This was a deliberate, well-planned strike by a rival gang to attack Rupert Thorne. Stromwell or Falcone would send lieutenants to run the operation, and Cobblepot would probably get involved personally.

Clearly, there was at least one other crook, but the goons the police had already captured weren't talking. Beyond that, they were all freelancers, not favoring any gang in particular. To put it simply, Gordon was stumped.

"Red Hood and Tony Zucco."

Gordon jumped, dropping the cigarettes. He whipped around and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster, pointing it at Batman.

"Freeze!" he yelled.

"From this position, I can think of six ways to disarm you and take you down. I'm not going to use any of them because you're not my enemy," growled Batman, "the reason I'm not going to use any of the seventeen ways to escape nonviolently is because I want to talk to you."

"Are you threatening me?" Gordon questioned.

"No. You're the one with the gun. I'm telling you it won't do you any good."

Gordon cautiously lowered his weapon. Batman made no move, standing as still as a statue.

"What did you say before?"

"Red Hood and Tony Zucco were the ringleaders. Hood tried to escape through a mixing vat. Zucco ran off while I was dealing with Hood."

Gordon holstered his gun.

"Hood and Zucco…"

Gordon was only vaguely familiar with Tony Zucco, but the Red Hood he knew. The Red Hood was a recurring thorn in Gordon's side. He was a skilled assassin, talented in stealth, strategy, and psychological warfare. In many ways, he was a mirror of the Batman.

Gordon had first met the Red Hood as a detective. He was assigned to investigate a string of murders in Bertinelli territory. The killer had a habit of leaving a literal calling card: various playing cards with razor-sharp edges, which Gordon determined to be the murder weapons.

Eventually, he was approached by City Councilman Rupert Thorne. Thorne said that he'd survived an attack by the killer, describing a man in a suit and cape with a red helmet.

There was just one problem: Thorne had a few injuries, but his apartment, where the attack supposedly occurred, showed no signs of a struggle. Gordon eventually discovered that Thorne had been in contact with Arnold Stromwell roughly a month before the murders.

Gordon pieced together that Thorne, and his associates Steven Mandragora and Salvatore "The Boss" Maroni had arranged for the Bertinellis and their top associates to be killed by Stromwell's muscle. In return, Stromwell would have access to Thorne's chemical holdings.

Stromwell already had a stranglehold on drugs flowing into Gotham, and the chemical companies would allow him to produce some drugs "in-house," as it were. However, the police cornered the Red Hood and entered a shoot-out with him.

Thorne and Mandragora decided to deal with their last targets, the Bertinelli family proper, themselves. As Red Hood, who escaped the shoot-out, had not completed the contract, Thorne refused to hand over the chemical companies to Stromwell. The two had been at war since.

Gordon pulled his coat around him, though it offered little protection against the biting cold.

"So it's Stromwell, then. I suspected as much. So you're saying Hood's dead?"

"He could be. I didn't see a body," Batman replied.

"Then he's not dead," Gordon said, "What about Zucco?"

Batman nodded slightly, the first he'd moved anything but his mouth since Gordon first saw him.

"I found him. He's opened up at least five protection rackets around the city. I think he needs money."

Gordon scratched his chin.

"Maybe he wants to get away. If you saw him at ACE, he's a liability to Stromwell. If he gets out now, he won't drag the whole organization down."

"But why extortion?" Batman wondered, "That's a long game. He could pull one heist and walk away with even more money for it."

Gordon shook his head slowly.

"From what I've heard, Zucco's not the brightest bulb, even when you plug him in. He's panicking, and trying to get money doing the sort of thing he's used to."

"We can't make that assumption," Batman said, the use of "we" not escaping Gordon's notice, "Zucco could be smarter, but he's not in immediate danger. He wouldn't panic like that. There's something or someone else behind this."

Gordon nodded and walked to the edge of the roof.

"Alright, let's say I trust your judgement on this," he said, "what do you propose we do?"

He waited a few seconds. Batman didn't respond. Gordon turned around, and the Batman was gone.

"Batman?"

Gordon sighed and bent over to pick up his dropped cigarettes. Those were gone as well. Instead, he found a note, scrawled on a scrap of paper.

'Those are bad for your health, Commissioner.

-(\||/)'

Gordon was somewhat confused that Batman was able to write this note, swipe the cigarettes, and pull a disappearing act all without his notice.

Gordon was further confused when he discovered the cigarettes in his coat pocket.

Monday, January 2, 2017 – 7:21 AM – The Batcave, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Bruce had a reputation for lateness, and occasionally failing to show up for certain appointments altogether. Ironically enough, he worked very hard to maintain that reputation. He made sure to give himself two schedules.

The first was impossible. Unless Wayne Enterprises were to produce some sort of time machine, there was literally no way Bruce could attend every function on the first schedule.

The second schedule was the appointments that Bruce actually intended on keeping. It was mostly meetings with consequences for Wayne Enterprises, and events with consequences for Batman.

It was this last point that moved his date at Haly's Circus from the first schedule to the second. Of the places Tony Zucco had attempted to extort, the circus was the most publicly visible and the most defiant toward Zucco. If he made an example of them, the other four, various smaller businesses around Gotham, would fall into line.

Whatever Zucco was trying to do, Batman couldn't let that happen. So, Bruce resolved to appear at the circus that evening, and every other evening a show was being put on. It was in his park, after all.

Bruce tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, and stared at the picture of Zucco currently displayed on the Batcomputer. He could capture Zucco easily, but he needed to know if the scheme ran deeper than it seemed. Until he could tell for certain, patience was essential.

Bruce heard the soft but unmistakable rumble of the grandfather clock door upstairs in stately Wayne Manor opening. He swiveled in his chair — He was debating calling it the Batchair; Alfred was opposed to the idea — and watched the stairs.

After a moment, Alfred Pennyworth descended, holding a tray with two cups of tea. Alfred placed the tray on the desk, and Bruce took one of the cups.

"Thanks, Alfred," he said.

Alfred nodded.

"Indeed. Any progress with Mr. Zucco?"

"Minimal," Batman replied, "but I do have a thought."

"Oh?" Alfred said, eyebrow raised.

"Most of the businesses Zucco's extorting are in Roman territory. The Falcones could be using him as a middleman."

"Yes, but to what end?" Alfred asked, "Surely not the money. Carmine Falcone is one of the richest men in Gotham."

Bruce nodded.

"That's the problem. It doesn't add up. There's a missing piece, and I intend to find it tonight."

More than twenty-four hours previously, in a drainage pipe connecting to the ACE Chemicals Building, ghostly, high-pitched laughter echoed through the night.


	4. Chapter 3

Monday, January 2, 2017 – 9:59 AM – The Stromwell Residence, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Arnold Stromwell gripped the arm of his chair, and glared at the ringing phone. It was a very old dial phone, an antique dating back at least to the nineteen forties. There were only three people who knew the number, and they had similar phones of their own.

He reached over and wrapped his hand around the phone, lifting the handset to his head.

"Stromwell," he said.

"Arnold, is this a bad time?" said the voice on the other end.

It was exactly what, or rather who, Stromwell was afraid of: Carmine Falcone.

"Of course not, Don Falcone," said Stromwell.

"Arnie, please, there's no need for this formality. You can call me Carmine."

Stromwell swallowed.

"Of course, Carmine."

"I invite you to a _riunione_."

Stromwell took a deep breath. Dating back to the early days of Gotham's organized crime, a meeting was just a meeting, but a _riunione_ was something more.

At one point, Gotham had 7 major crime families: the Falcones, the Maronis, the Zuccos (Italian), the Bertinellis (Sicilian), the Stromwells (German), the Rileys (Irish), and the Cobblepots (English).

The Falcones, Maronis, Zuccos, and Bertinellis created the _riunione_ , hence the Italian name. It was a meeting of the bosses of each family on neutral ground, usually to discuss territory and business arrangements which affected everyone. The _riunione_ was, for lack of a better word, sacred. It was not called for a frivolous reason, and if one of the bosses absolutely, positively could not be present, they would send the highest-ranking lieutenant available along with an apology.

The seven families eventually became four families. The Stromwells, Rileys, and Zuccos entered an alliance which was currently dominated by the Stromwells. Meanwhile the weakened Maronis began working for the Bertinellis in return for protection from the police. This was shortly before the Bertinellis died in a "tragic house fire" that left that fool Thorne in control of their organization.

"I would be glad to come, my friend. Where do you want to meet?" said Stromwell, voice shaking.

"O'Neil's, noon," said Falcone.

Monday, January 2, 2017 – 10:27 AM – GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

Flip.

The silver dollar came up heads. It wasn't surprising. Both sides were heads.

Flip.

Heads again.

Flip.

"Well?" Gordon asked.

Flip.

"One vigilante's testimony isn't enough to prosecute."

Flip.

"So we're just going to wait for him to strike?" O'Hara questioned.

Flip.

Dent shook his head.

Flip.

"We need to find Zucco and watch him. If we've got evidence, we bring him in."

Flip.

"I'm more concerned about the Batman," said Gordon, "He risked his own neck by coming here to help us."

Flip.

"Still a vigilante, and he's doing more harm than good."

Flip.

"How so?" O'Hara asked.

Flip.

"He's attacking the gangs. He's kicking the hornet's nest."

Flip.

"It's just making them angry. If he'd let us do our job, we could dismantle them carefully, without pissing them off."

Flip.

"Without Loeb to protect them, Thorne's organization is coming apart at the seams," Gordon pointed out.

Flip.

"Yeah, but Stromwell's getting more powerful, and Falcone's cleaning house. At this rate, he'll be untouchable by the time we've even started to deal with him."

Flip.

If only the way forward were as simple as a coin toss.

Monday, January 2, 2017 – 11:45 AM – O'Neil's Restaurant, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

O'Neil's was a high-end restaurant in downtown Gotham. It was in the business district, outside any of the bosses' influence. The owner tended to ignore anything that went on in his restaurant, as long as his property wasn't damaged. It was the perfect meeting spot.

When Arnold Stromwell entered, he noticed that there were at least twelve men in dark suits and sunglasses seated facing a table near the back of the restaurant. Sitting at this table was the Roman himself.

He was tall, had a full figure without being overweight, had silver-white hair and a thin moustache, and always dressed impeccably. He was old enough to look distinguished, but was far from frail.

In most settings, Stromwell's short hair and brown suit would've looked quite formal, but next to the Carmine Falcone, he was downright dingy.

"Ah, Arnie, I'm glad you could make it. Please, sit down," said Falcone.

Technically, the Roman Empire had no particular authority over the other gangs, but they were by far the most powerful and could crush any boss who stepped out of line. Indeed, doing just this may have been the reason for the _riunione_.

As Stromwell did what he was told, a third man entered the restaurant. He was younger than Falcone or Stromwell, wore a pinstripe suit that was a little too big for him, and was chewing a toothpick.

Salvatore "The Boss" Maroni was a lieutenant of Rupert Thorne.

The Roman folded his arms and stared at Maroni as the latter slid into his chair.

"I take it Mr. Thorne could not be here," said the Roman.

"Unfortunately," said Maroni, who appeared to be holding back a smirk.

"Did he give an explanation?" Falcone questioned.

"Hey, I don't ask too many questions," said Maroni.

Falcone shook his head. Stromwell looked at Maroni. Rupert Thorne had just snubbed the Roman. This could get messy, and Stromwell was right in the middle of it.

His train of thought was interrupted by one last arrival.

The Cobblepots had always been outsiders among the gangs of Gotham. It was odd, since they'd been active in Gotham since the forties, but the other six families dated back to the twenties.

Of course, the Cobblepot family was a good deal older than that. They'd been powerful in London for decades, but lost almost everything in World War II. They moved to Gotham and rebuilt their empire. In recent years, their organization operated out of a nightclub called the Iceberg Lounge, bringing in most of their money as arms dealers.

Unfortunately, most of the family was dead. Indeed, the last one left was Oswald Chesterfield "The Penguin" Cobblepot. It was easy to see where he got his nickname. He was a short, portly man with a nose to put Cyrano de Bergerac to shame. Beyond this, while the other bosses were well-dressed, the Penguin wore an actual tuxedo, monocle, and top hat, which only added to the penguin-like image.

He was different from other Gothamite gangsters. He was flamboyant, egotistical, and deviously intelligent. In many ways, he was as much a showman as he was a criminal. He was also a wild card. The Roman, Stromwell, and Thorne all had their own unique politics between each other, but due to his status as an outsider, the Penguin was impartial. If a conflict erupted, there would be almost no way to predict Cobblepot's course of action. Thankfully, he preferred to play all sides and maintain balance, so as not to lose too many customers at once. At least, that's what Stromwell thought. One could never be too sure with Cobblepot.

So, when he stepped through the door, twirling a folded-up umbrella (odd – it wasn't raining outside), all eyes were on the Penguin. He hooked the umbrella's handle onto a hat rack near the bosses' table and plopped down into the last chair, clapping his hands.

"Gentlemen! I'm so glad to see you all here!"

He glanced at Maroni but said nothing. Falcone placed both hands on the table.

"Now that we're all here, we should see to business. Salvatore, am I to understand you are responsible for the Commissioner's arrest?"

Maroni adjusted his tie.

"I ain't responsible for the bat."

The Penguin cocked his head to the side.

"The bat? Mr. Maroni, are you saying you were foiled by the Batman?"

"Yeah, or some joker pretendin' to be him," said Maroni, "Your point?"

The Penguin chuckled his odd, birdlike laugh.

"Mr. Thorne ought to be more careful with such important documents," he said, shaking his head, "It's most unprofessional."

"Are you tryin' to say somethin', Cobblepot?" Maroni said, starting to get out of his chair.

Falcone lifted his hands in the air.

"Gentlemen, please. I'm merely concerned that Mr. Thorne's business could be damaged so severely by an urban legend. Besides, the commissioner is a friend of mine as well. I'm distressed to see him go. Regardless, after this happened, Mr. Stromwell chose to launch an unprovoked robbery of one of Mr. Thorne's companies."

Stromwell squeezed his chair. The topic of conversation had shifted to him, and he didn't like that.

"A clever move, Mr. Stromwell; you are to be congratulated," said the Penguin, nodding at Stromwell.

"Hey," said Maroni "What're you tryin' to pull here, bird?"

"I'm an opinionated man," the Penguin replied, "I do have a right to free speech."

"Then," said Falcone, trying to keep the conversation on track, "Mr. Stromwell's nephew proceeded to start multiple protection rackets in _my territory_. Do you care to explain this, Mr. Stromwell?"

"I didn't order it," said Stromwell, "I haven't spoken to Tony since ACE."

This was the truth. Stromwell was not dumb enough to interfere with the Roman. That level of stupidity could only be displayed by Tony Zucco. Stromwell just hoped the other bosses would believe it.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said the Penguin, "I really don't know if I buy that story."

He turned back to Falcone.

"This is an insult to your authority. I wouldn't tolerate that, would you?" he asked

"What's your stake in this, Cobblepot?" Stromwell questioned.

Falcone interrupted any response the Penguin would've made.

"Mr. Maroni, Mr. Stromwell, there has remained for some time a _very delicate balance_ between us. Your recent actions threaten to upset this balance. These acts are ones of incompetence and of hostility, two things which I cannot abide."

The Penguin leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. Stromwell adjusted his jacket. He didn't want any trouble, but at this point, it seemed like trouble had come to him. He had to stand up for himself.

"Tony acted without my knowledge. I'll deal with him. As for my other activities, I don't see why that's any concern of yours."

Maroni clenched his jaw and leaned forward, toward Stromwell.

"When you go steppin' outta line, it's all our concern."

The Penguin laughed.

"In troubled times such as these, we should support each other."

Stromwell glared at both of them, and decided to respond to Maroni first.

"And Mr. Thorne can't even be bothered to show up for the _riunione_. Am _I_ the one who's out of line?"

"He does have a point," the Penguin said.

Maroni glared daggers at the Penguin. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

"That's _it_! I'm tellin' Mr. Thorne that you gone rogue, and when I do, that's war."

The Penguin turned back to Stromwell with the same smirk on his face.

"You'd best be prepared.'

Stromwell pushed his chair out from the table, got up, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Monday, January 2, 2017 – 12:13 PM – O'Neil's Restaurant, Gotham City, New Jersey, United States – Earth-0

The Roman narrowed his eyes at the Penguin.

"Why did you do that?"

"They go to war, they need guns, I get rich," said Cobblepot, adjusting his monocle, "They just needed a little push."

Falcone shook his head.

"You would start a war, upset the balance, for money?"

The Penguin grinned wickedly.

"Of course not. They're doing it for me."


End file.
